In Vino Veritas
by The Fink
Summary: With Tony on the verge of walking away from Team Gibbs, it's left to Palmer and Vance to try and make things right again... Season 6 - set between Deliverance and Bounce
1. Chapter 1

[coughs] Uh, so. Yes. Been a while... I could insert a long string of excuses, starting with finishing my degree and ending with finishing a draft of a novel, but it all boils down to one thing: Real Life has been kicking my ass. However, things seems to be settling down now, so I'm going to attempt to get the rest of my writing back on track. I'm not going to run through all of my WIPs (this a/n will end up being longer than the posting!), but suffice to say you're going to see a bit of a feast of posting after quite a famine - and for more details, you should check out my profile.

Disclaimer: Out of this story, all I own is the plot. The rest is borrowed from Bellisario et al with no offence intended and no (well, very little!) harm done.

This story takes place in the Coming Back To Life universe, but is set back in season 6, shortly before Bounce. You can safely assume spoilers for all seasons and some vague references to my story Coming Back To Life. Two shot - the second part will be up tomorrow.

No beta readers were harmed in the production of this story

In Vino Veritas

One

Knowing when you were needed was a skill that Jimmy Palmer had worked extremely hard on perfecting and, as he entered the bar, he judged that his arrival was not a moment too soon.

His quarry was not yet drunk, but, to judge by the fact that he was drinking tequila rather than beer, drunk was what his quarry was aiming for. Jimmy sighed. What had set him off now?

He slid into the seat next to his quarry and signalled the bartender for a beer. "Hey."

"Hey."

The bartender dropped the beer off, giving Jimmy the excuse to pause before beginning, "So...?"

"Vance offered me a promotion."

For most people, that was cause for celebration. Jimmy sipped his beer. "You don't want it."

"That's the problem. I do want it."

Jimmy winced. "Ah."

"I shouldn't want it. It means moving to LA. It means leaving about the only stable place I've had since college. It means more paperwork than any sane person wants to handle. It means even longer hours. It means Vance is setting me up for a fail so big I don't have the words for it."

"But?"

A shot of tequila was sunk. "But it comes back to one thing: I don't think there's anything left for me here. Present company excepted, of course."

"What makes you think that?" Jimmy asked, although he was pretty certain he already knew the answer.

"Where do I start?" Another shot of tequila was sunk. "I could start with the team leader who doesn't trust me. Or how 'bout the ME who thinks I'm a narcissist and that the only difference between me and a serial killer is that I have compassion. Or the partner who thinks that I'm too dumb to live. Or then there's the other partner who just simply hates my guts. I think it's only you and Abby who're prepared to give me the time of day - and some days, I'm not sure about Abby."

Jimmy winced. He'd known things had been tense but he hadn't realised just how bad things had actually become.

"Thanks for confirming none of that's in my head, Palmer."

Jimmy sighed. "Tony, I'm not going to pretend that things don't suck right now. But- Are you sure about all that?"

That got a shrug. "Gibbs would rather work with Mike Franks than deal with me. He's made that pretty damn clear. Ziva's been making her feelings clear, too. As for McGee, he's always looked at me like I'm a chump who somehow lucked my way into NCIS - the difference now is that he actually comes right out and says it."

Jimmy winced again. "Okay, so tell me about this promotion."

Another shot of tequila was sunk. Then: "Vance is reorganising OSP. It was his baby down in San Diego and he wants to put more into it, now he's the lord of all he surveys. So he's shifting assets around. Strengthening the team. Looking for agents with undercover skills. Lucky me. My name pops right to the top of his list. But he doesn't want me to go to LA as an agent. He wants me down there to frickin' lead the team. Like I'm even halfway qualified to do that."

Privately, Jimmy suspected that his friend was more than qualified to do precisely that, but he doubted his friend would ever recognise his own skills - and he certainly was in no frame of mind to take it on now. "It sounds like a good job," he offered cautiously.

"It's just another Vance headfuck," came the retort. "He wants me out of NCIS and since I'm too dumb to quit and there's nothing in my jacket he can fire me over, the next best thing is to promote me way over my head and let me screw up. And the worst part is, I know all that and I'm still thinking of taking the job."

Jimmy drained the last of his beer and signaled the bartender for another. "You ready to hear what I think?"

"Sure."

"I think you're wrong about Vance-"

"He hates me."

Jimmy grimaced. "I can see how you would think that, but I really don't think he does, Tony. You said it yourself: OSP is his baby. He's not going to trust that to someone just to watch them screw it up. If he's offered you team lead, he's done it because he thinks you can do it."

"So you don't think he's screwing with me."

"Really don't."

"Then it's settled. Monday morning, I'll go in, accept this promotion and be outta everyone's hair by lunch."

"I didn't say I think you should take the job," said Jimmy hastily.

That earned him a slightly bleary version of his friend's normal force ten glare. "Palmer, so not in the mood for riddles. You just said-"

"I just said I think the offer's a genuine one and if this had come up, say, three or four months ago, you'd have been crazy not to accept. Right now, though, I think you'd be accepting it for all the wrong reasons. I think that taking this job would be just like you joining NCIS in the first place. Just like leaving Peoria. You'd be running."

That earned a long moment of silence. Then a very soft, "Maybe I want to run."

"I think you'd regret it. Give it a month or even a couple of months, and you'd regret that you left DC with everything on such bad terms."

"You're probably right. Doesn't stop me from wanting out, though."

"No," said Jimmy studying his friend for a moment. "No, I can get that." He wondered vaguely what the rest of Team Gibbs would make of this particular sight and suspected that they'd all be some form of shocked.

In the next moment, an idea blossomed in the back of his mind that was simplicity itself and yet terrifying in so many ways, not the least of which were he'd be betraying a confidence - albeit one that was unlikely to be remembered come the next morning.

"If I stay... What then?"

Jimmy brought his wayward thoughts back to the conversation at hand. "Then you have a chance to fix things."

"And if they can't be fixed?"

"At least you'll have tried and you'll know that leaving won't be running."

* * *

It was late by the time Jimmy managed to haul his friend home and see him into bed. He was, Jimmy knew, going to wake up with a stinking hangover, but just as long as there were no emergencies over the weekend, no one else would be any the wiser come Monday morning. The DiNozzo that everyone saw would look just the same as he had done every day since his return from the USS Seahawk, but Jimmy knew the difference. And it nagged at him over the weekend.

There had to be something he could do to make this situation better.

He was well aware that there was at least a portion of the general displeasure Tony was feeling that was probably deserved. Jimmy knew that a personality like Tony's would grate over an extended period of time and he knew better than anyone that there were times when Tony could - and would - extend a joke beyond the point of humour. He could be crass and insensitive, too. The flip side of all that, however, was a man who was loyal to a fault. A man who would always stand by a friend in trouble. A man who would defend those friends to his last breath - something that every member of Gibbs' team ought to know, having felt the benefit of that both individually and collectively over the years they'd worked together. And all that was before you reached the parts that were relevant to the day-to-day business of being an investigator.

There was no question in Jimmy's mind that Tony was damn good at his job or that he'd earned the several promotional offers that had come his way - not the least of which was the one that had brought about this present tailspin.

For one wild moment, the idea of informing McGee and Ziva, in detail, just what Tony had turned down to stay with the team crossed his mind. Jimmy dismissed the idea as quickly as it had formed. While it would be satisfying to show both of them how far wrong they were, that really wasn't his place. A much better approach would be talking to the one man who could really make a difference.

Except for the part where it would probably lead to an untimely and unquestionably painful death.

Balanced against that was the knowledge that, roles reversed, he knew for damn sure that not only would Tony be willing to risk the verbal evisceration; he would probably have already done it. Hell, had already done it, when Jimmy considered the rather impressive dressing down the senior field agent had administered to a couple of other agents who had been inclined to generally mistreat Jimmy. Or the equally impressive method Tony had used to put a stop to all the gossip relating to Jimmy's relationship to Michelle. On the basis of both of those examples, Jimmy felt that perhaps he actually owed it to Tony to step in now.

Except he was fairly sure that Tony wouldn't consider the two situations even remotely equivalent and presumably wanted to deal with his own situation himself.

The problem with that, Jimmy recognised, was that Tony's method of 'dealing' involved a lot of avoidance and probably more of the behaviour that irritated those around him. So, really, perhaps Jimmy had to step in because if he didn't, Tony's own self-destructive behaviour would take care of everything.

It was a huge mess, and one that Jimmy was still wrestling with come Monday lunchtime when he found himself making his way up to the bullpen to deliver some paperwork to the team.

To his general surprise, however, as he rounded the corner from the elevator to the MCRT's section of the bullpen, he realised that the only person present was Gibbs. That piece of pure happenstance cut through his indecision - fate was handing him the perfect opportunity to say what needed to be said. Of course, that meant the terrifying prospect of speaking to Gibbs about something other than a dead body - and he usually did so well with that in the normal course of things, didn't he? - but he had to try.

Drawing himself up to his full height, Jimmy strode into the desk pod as though he belonged there and came to a halt in front of Gibbs' desk. Of course, the first thing he was greeted by was one of Gibbs' finest glares, but Jimmy reminded himself that he hadn't done anything wrong - yet - and instead set the file of paperwork down on Gibbs' desk.

"That's the paperwork from the Jennings case," he said.

Gibbs said nothing, but his expression clearly implied it was time for Jimmy to leave.

Jimmy stood his ground. "Agent Gibbs, there's something I think you should know."

A slowly raising eyebrow was the only response.

Gamely, Jimmy plowed on: "If you continue the way you're going, you're going to lose Tony. And I don't think that's what you want."

The eyebrow twitched.

"Director Vance has offered Tony a huge promotion."

That got a proper reaction out of Gibbs. A look of shock briefly crossed his face, followed by one of annoyance. The annoyance took up more permanent residence. "He's done what?"

"Offered Tony a huge promotion. One where his skills would actually be appreciated," Jimmy replied. He left the words 'unlike here' unsaid, but from the barely perceptible wince, Gibbs caught them all the same. "I don't think Tony's going to take this one - not that I'd blame him if he did - but the next one will be a different story. And there will be a next one. Tony is a highly capable field agent and investigator with skills that are not being used or appreciated."

"I know that."

"Do you?" Now that Jimmy had got into this, he found the words coming easily. "If that's so then why shut him out so completely? Why work with Mike Franks?"

"That's none of your business."

"Okay, then if you know and appreciate his skills why do you keep letting Agent McGee and Officer David undermine him? Why did you keep him in the dark over-" Jimmy swallowed. "-over Agent Lee?"

"I brought him back," said Gibbs as if that was answer enough.

"And you've ignored him since. Makes me wonder why you bothered to make the effort."

That goaded Gibbs into an attack of his own: "Did he put you up to this?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "If you really think that then perhaps you don't know Tony even a little. Tony would never ask someone to step in on his behalf. He just quietly packs his bags and leaves. It's what happened in Peoria and it's probably what would have happened in Baltimore if you hadn't come along when you did."

"Then why are you?"

"Because, frankly, Tony deserves better than this and you know it."

The ding of the elevator arriving broke the spell and reminded Jimmy that at any moment the rest of the team - including Tony - could return from lunch. He realised, though, that he had managed to say just about everything he'd had in mind to say, so rather than say anything else - and risk turning back into the Autopsy Gremlin with a permanent case of foot-in-mouth syndrome - he turned on his heel and smartly marched away before Gibbs found a comeback.

It was only once he was safely into the elevator and on his way back down to autopsy that the magnitude of what he'd done hit him. He had told off Special Agent Gibbs and actually survived the experience. Jimmy marvelled at that for a moment, then sobered. Would it do any good? He could only cross his fingers and hope so.

* * *

_To Be Concluded..._


	2. Chapter 2

Good golly; the response the first part of this story's garnered has blown me away - and left me feeling not a little nervous about this second part. Thank you all so much for your reviews, your favouriting, your alerting and your reading - I hope this doesn't disappoint.

Disclaimer: Out of this story, all I own is the plot. The rest is borrowed from Bellisario et al with no offence intended and no (well, very little!) harm done.

This story takes place in the Coming Back To Life universe, but is set back in season 6, shortly before Bounce. You can safely assume spoilers for all seasons and some vague references to my story Coming Back To Life. Two shot. Written, in part, to explain the sudden shift in relationship between Gibbs and Tony between Deliverance and Bounce.

No beta readers were harmed in the production of this story.

In Vino Veritas

Two

Paperwork was the bane of Leon Vance's life. It so frequently kept him at the office late - much to Jackie's displeasure - and no matter how much of it he did, there always seemed to be more stacking up. With Jared performing in a school play that evening, however, he was determined to get as much squared away by five so that he could be at his son's school in time to see the curtain up. It was a laudable goal, but one that depended on an uninterrupted afternoon. As the office door crashed back on its hinges, Vance knew that his visitor could only be one person - and that his afternoon was liable to become fairly impressively interrupted.

"Special Agent Gibbs, what do I-"

"You reassigning DiNozzo without telling me, Le-on?" Gibbs cut in, coming to a halt in front of the director's desk.

Vance blinked, startled. Out of all the subjects Gibbs could have brought up, that was the most unlikely. "I've offered him a promotion."

"Without consulting me." This time it wasn't phrased like a question and the glare that backed it up was clearly intended to despatch Vance to his ancestors.

Vance matched the glare with one of his own. "Last time I checked, the job of director was mine, not yours. That means that if I see an agent being wasted, I'll step in to fix that."

"DiNozzo is not being wasted."

"Then explain to me why you left him on the sidelines in favour of a retired agent like Mike Franks."

Gibbs said nothing, but from the way his jaw clenched, Vance judged his words had hit their target.

"From where I'm sitting," he continued, "it looks like you don't trust him. Now, I may not like DiNozzo on a personal level, but I know the man has skills and I can see those skills being wasted. So I'm stepping in. If you don't want to use the talents of a man you spent four months butting heads to get back to DC I know plenty of teams who will."

"He take the job?" Back to questions. Unlike the earlier one, though, Gibbs managed to sound at least faintly contrite and the glare was considerably toned down. At least by Gibbs' standards.

"Not yet. He asked for time to think it over. And, for the record, he was the one who asked me not to tell you about this. Or any of the others." Vance decided to twist the knife just a fraction. It was high time Gibbs understood what was actually going on here.

"Others?" Gibbs looked uneasy.

"Your boy has skills, Gibbs." Vance leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. "Jenny Sheppard knew that and offered him two separate promotions before she took advantage of those skills herself. Tobias Fornell knows that and regularly tries to poach him. Elements of the CIA would like nothing better than for me to loan him to them-"

"They probably want to finish the job Kort botched," Gibbs cut in with something that might have passed for a glimour of humour.

Vance smiled briefly in return. "Some of them, perhaps. There's a genuine offer in there, too, though. Then there's the captain of the Seahawk who would like to have DiNozzo back as Agent Afloat - in his words, DiNozzo's methods might have been unconventional, but they were sure as hell effective."

Gibbs said nothing, but the uneasiness in his expression had increased tenfold.

Judging his point to be made, Vance straightened in his seat. "Like I said. Your boy has skills. Use them or lose them."

Without saying another word, Gibbs turned on his heel and left as suddenly as he'd arrived, leaving Vance shaking his head in a mixture of amusement and disbelief. There were times when the former Gunnery Sergeant reminded him of nothing less than his young daughter. They could both do a particularly fine line in petulance.

Then again, perhaps he wasn't being entirely fair to Gibbs. Under previous regimes the man had had a fair degree of autonomy - in the case of Morrow, because he'd earned it; in the case of Sheppard, it was so as she could use and abuse him and his team with impunity - and while that autonomy wasn't entirely gone now (and might one day come back), Gibbs had to be that much closer to the line that everyone else toed and that meant actually appreciating the assets he'd got.

Hearing the litany of potential promotions DiNozzo had turned down might just do that trick. God, but Vance hoped so.

That led him to the inevitable next question: who was it who'd finally let the promotional cat out of the bag? It wouldn't have been DiNozzo, that much Vance was certain of. The former homicide detective wouldn't have said a word to Gibbs, given the way the team lead had been treating him lately, but clearly he had confided in someone.

Who?

Vance selected a new toothpick from the stash in his top drawer and started to methodically unwrap it as he considered the candidates. Since Abby Scutio hadn't poisoned his coffee or made any veiled - or otherwise - threats to his person, she wasn't in on it. Nor was Agent McGee, if some of the jibes he'd overheard were a fair sampling. Officer David was a possibility, except she seemed a little too keen on joining McGee in ridiculing DiNozzo. Could be a front, but unlikely. Ducky? Wrong generation. That left-

"I'll be damned." Vance chuckled.

Palmer was the obvious answer. Vance just wished he'd been observing the bullpen at the moment the fumbling ME's assistant found the temerity to face down Gibbs.

That Palmer had done something this time out - and Vance was willing to bet that this wasn't the first time DiNozzo had confided in Palmer - suggested that any minute now DiNozzo was going to knock on this office door and turn down yet another promotion. It ought to have annoyed him, but in some ways, Vance was actually pleased by that outcome. When he had first considered the option, it had been a good time to shuffle assets, but there were moves now being made that were making him rethink. Mossad was up to something. And that meant making sure he had his best agents close at hand, for when all hell inevitably broke loose.

Pat on that thought came the knock he was expecting. A moment later and DiNozzo appeared. From the expression he had yet to see Gibbs. Or else the retired Marine hadn't had the humility to swallow a little crow. Vance wasn't sure where to put his money on that score.

Instead, he said, "You're not taking it."

DiNozzo looked mildly sheepish but resolute. "No, sir."

"Mind telling me why?"

"I don't think it's the right time for me to be moving on."

"I see." Vance wanted to add something about giving Gibbs one more chance, but it was never a good idea to give up all your intel if you didn't have to. "All right. I'll accept your answer. I do have an extra job for you to do, though."

Now DiNozzo looked surprised. "Me?"

"The Tokyo office staff is visiting the Navy Yard tomorrow. I need someone to look after them tomorrow evening - show them a little Washington hospitality."

"Me?" DiNozzo repeated, now looking both surprised and wary.

Clearly he'd learned the old Marine adage of never volunteer. "You. As I understand it, you are a leading expert in Washington's nightlife."

From DiNozzo's expression, he didn't have any clue as to how to take that particular remark.

"I'll expect you in my office at nineteen hundred," Vance finished.

And given no choice, DiNozzo made the only response he could: "Yes, sir."

A moment or two later and Vance was alone in his office again. Only then did he allow a smirk to cross his face. He might have accepted DiNozzo's answer - might even be glad of it - but that didn't mean he wasn't going to find the man at least a modicum of punishment duty. And taking the Tokyo boys out for the evening would certainly be that. But then again, the inevitable hangover the next morning would give Gibbs an easy 'in' to fixing things, so it wasn't as if it was all bad.

Vance just hoped it worked.

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
